Heartbeat
by MyImmortal329
Summary: All Daryl expected was a hunting trip with his brother. He never expected the world to fall apart around him. He certainly never expected to fall in love.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

Heartbeat

Chapter 1

"The hell's the matter with you? You deaf or somethin'?" Daryl Dixon flinched at the hard thump of his brother's hand against his back. "I been hollerin' for you. Get your head outta the clouds, boy." Merle Dixon spat onto the ground and unzipped his jeans before unceremoniously taking a piss against the tall oak tree Daryl was currently leaning into with his shoulder.

"Hey, watch it," Daryl snorted, taking a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. "Piss on your own boots." Merle laughed at that, and Daryl lit up, and the morning sun began to filter through the low fog, casting shadows through the trees that would play tricks on the eyes of any unseasoned hunter. Lucky for the Dixon brothers, they'd started learning to hunt before they were out of diapers. "What were you hollerin' at me for?"

"Sun's up. We're late. What's the matter with you? You was s'posed to wake us up an hour ago. You out here dreamin' or jerkin' off?"

"Fuck off," Daryl muttered, taking a long drag on the cigarette as Merle stuffed himself back into his jeans.

"You catch the show last night?" He nodded toward the third tent set up next to a couple of pine trees. Daryl followed his brother's gaze before letting out a stream of smoke.

"Why the hell they come along anyway?" Daryl grumbled, digging the toe of his boot into the ground and adjusting the strap of his crossbow on his shoulder. "Thought this was just you and me."

"Hell, Ed's a good drinkin' buddy. Lost a hand of poker, and now I gotta teach his dumb ass how to hunt. Didn't count on him bringin' a piece of ass as fine as that one, though. Mmm mmm, I don't usually like the short hair on a woman, but the sounds she had him makin' last night? I could get on board if she used her mouth right."

"You're a pig," Daryl snorted.

"Oh, hey now, I'm just tellin' it like it is. Ed says she's good. Hell, you never know, maybe he'll share if they're into it. Might just get your dick wet for once."

"Man, shut up." Daryl elbowed his brother into the stomach, getting a hoarse laugh in response.

"Hey, I seen the way you looked down the front of Carol's shirt when she knelt down in front of the campfire last night. I just don't know why the hell you don't man up and find yourself a piece of ass. If a piece of shit like Ed Peletier can find someone like that, my dumbass little brother sure ain't gonna have a problem." Daryl glared at his brother for a moment, but before he could tell him to fuck off again, the flap of the third tent opened, and out she came.

Daryl watched as she ducked out of the tent and then straightened, smoothing her hand over the front of her shirt. She wore a light blue tank top that showed off her freckled collarbones, her creamy skin, and her toned arms. She was soft in all the right places. Her short, auburn hair was flat in the back, messy, hinting at a sleepless night. Her mouth was drawn in a worried line for a moment, until her gaze fell upon his. A hint of a smile drew up in the corner of her mouth, and she reached out to balance herself against a tree as she pulled on her own boots.

"Morning," she said with a smile, stepping over to where Merle and Daryl stood, running her fingers through her hair.

Daryl opened his mouth to speak, but he nearly choked on his own tongue, merely letting out a little cough before he took another pull on his cigarette. Merle licked his lips and made no secret of letting his gaze wander up and down her body. She glared at him for a moment, before she looked to Daryl again, gaze softening.

"That man of yours awake?" Merle asked. "From the sound of it, you probably wore him out."

"Go to hell, Merle." The words were tinged with a cross between amusement and exasperation. She folded her arms across her chest and glared up at him.

"Oh, I like 'em feisty." Merle licked his lips again, and Daryl found his voice.

"C'mon. We're wastin' time." He shoved Merle's shoulder, and Carol shot him a thankful smile, a silent gratitude for distracting Merle from his less-than-subtle scrutiny of his drinking buddy's girlfriend. Ed called out from the tent, and Carol started over that way.

"Don't worry," she called over her shoulder. "He'll be ready in ten." Daryl couldn't help but admire her figure as she walked away, but he was rudely interrupted from his thoughts by a hard clap on the back by his older brother.

"Sorry, bro. That one there? She's way outta your league. Yeah, that one? She's a goddamned spitfire. Hey, maybe she's got a mousy little sister or somethin' more your speed." Merle patted down his leather vest pockets, smiling in victory when he heard the rattle of his current pill of choice. Daryl cringed as his brother walked off in search of a beer or something harder to wash it down with.

"Shut up," Daryl muttered to nobody but himself, tossing down the remains of his cigarette into a nearby mud puddle.

The younger Dixon brother made his way over to Merle's pickup, slinging his duffel bag into the back next to Merle's and the hunting rifles and shells. As he turned to go start tearing down the tent, he nearly ran right into Carol. She startled, dropping her own bag with a gasp, and when she leaned over to get it, so help him, he couldn't help but steal a glance right down the front of her shirt. Hell, Merle wasn't normally so observant, so Daryl couldn't help but wonder how obvious it had been that he'd been staring at this gorgeous woman all night long the night before.

She'd mesmerized him. Her laugh. Her smile. The way her nose crinkled with her smile and her eyes sparkled in the firelight. Though the laughter seemed to stop the more Ed drank and the more forward he'd gotten with her. They had a very sexual relationship, that was obvious, and hell, maybe she loved him, but when Ed got drunk, he got demanding, and Daryl couldn't help but wonder why in the hell she put up with it? Of course, maybe that was his own shit clouding his judgment. He'd grown up watching his dad beat the hell out of his mother after a couple of stiff drinks. He'd made a vow to himself that he'd never hurt a woman that way.

"Sorry," Daryl muttered, quickly bending down to help her pick up her bag.

"I've got it," she assured him, though he was quicker and hoisted the strap of the bag over his shoulder. "Thanks." He noticed she'd brushed her hair, maybe even styled it. She wore a grey jacket over her tank top, but that didn't hide the hard buds of her nipples poking through the material of her shirt. Daryl pretended not to notice, and the overwhelming scent of cinnamon and vanilla filled the air when she brushed by him. She smelled so damned good, and he wondered how the hell that was even possible after spending the night in the dank, musty woods. "So, you're Merle's brother? How'd that happen?"

"How'd what happen?" Daryl asked, tossing Carol's bag into the back of Merle's truck. Carol smiled.

"How'd you turn out so nice? I mean, Merle's not exactly a day at Disneyland."

"Maybe I ain't so nice," Daryl offered, not certain if he was trying to flirt or trying to come off as tough, but nevertheless, the tops of his ears felt like they were on fire.

"How old are you, anyway? Merle calls you his baby brother. He calls you boy. The kid. You're no kid."

"Just turned twenty-one."

"Oh, I remember twenty-one," she laughed. God, she was so beautiful. "I'm twenty-four, but sometimes it feels like forty-four."

"Why's that?" Daryl asked, leaning up against the back of the truck, watching as Carol zipped her jacket and stuffed her hands in the pockets.

"Oh, you know. Work. Responsibilities. You work?"

"Did," Daryl muttered. "Worked at a garage downtown. Just got let go. That's why Merle dragged me out here. Tryin' to cheer me up in his own way, but I think he really just wanted to get drunk and kill shit." Carol laughed at that, and she cocked her head to the side.

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about your job."

"S'alright. Ain't nothin' I did, they said. Just not enough steady business. When it picks up, they'll probably give me a call." He shrugged and pulled another cigarette from his pocket. "You smoke?"

"No," Carol murmured, crinkling her nose.

"You ain't gonna give me no lecture, are ya?"

"No," she laughed. "You're old enough to make stupid decisions for yourself." Daryl snorted at that, and Carol smiled.

"So what kinda work's got you feelin' like forty-four?"

"Oh," she laughed, "I'm a social worker. Mostly, I get kids out of bad situations and help them into good situations. I kind of thought it would be some wonderful, fulfilling job, but mostly, it's a lot of sleepless nights, a lot of tears, a lot of stress." She pointed to her hair. "This is probably going to be white by the time I'm thirty."

"Bet you help a lot of people. The world needs folks like that." Daryl tucked his unlit cigarette back into the box in his shirt pocket. He caught the hint of a smile on her lips. "What made ya wanna do somethin' like that? Be a social worker, I mean?"

"Mmm, I don't know," she offered. "I guess I grew up pretty lucky to start with. My parents were great. I was fifteen when they died, and I ended up staying with my aunt in Atlanta until I moved away to college. I guess I was lucky that I didn't have to go into the system, that I didn't have to live with strangers, so I figured that I would try to help as many kids as possible have the best chance at a good life." She smiled a little.

"Sorry 'bout your folks."

"I'm sorry about yours. Ed told me about Merle's parents. Your parents."

"He tell you everything?"

"He told me enough," Carol said gently.

"Well, some of us ain't so lucky. Some of us still got scars."

"I've got scars," she said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself in the chill of the morning. "They're just not as visible." She nodded toward Daryl, eyes gazing down to the hint of a scar peeking out from the sleeve of his shirt. Daryl flinched and tugged his sleeve down, and Carol cocked her head to the side. "I'm sorry."

"Hell, my folks are dead, too. Don't matter anymore."

"It does." Her voice was soft and sweet, and her gaze was even softer, caring. He hadn't expected someone like Ed Peletier to have a girlfriend that would have such a pull on him, but he found himself lost in her eyes, felt his hands trembling, felt his blood pumping just a little bit faster through his veins. Sweat beaded at his temple in the cool morning air. "If you ever need to talk…"

"What, you doubling as a shrink?"

"No," she chuckled. "But I know what it's like to be alone." She nodded toward the small cluster of tents. "Your brother?"

"What about him?"

"I've heard how he talks to you. He's not good for you."

"What the hell you know about it anyway?" Daryl bristled, eyeing her and taking a step back.

"Enough to know that sometimes you can be surrounded by people and feel more alone than ever. Don't let him bring you down. You're a good guy. I can tell. But Merle? That one will get caught in the tide and pull you down with him."

"Carol?" Ed hollered from the tent. "You seen my hunting knife?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll be right there, Ed." Daryl watched her for a moment, noting the way her voice changed just a little. It was weaker, more hesitant. She turned toward the small camp and then paused to look back at Daryl. She didn't speak, but there was something different now.

"Sometimes," Daryl offered, "there ain't nothin' wrong with bein' alone." She flinched this time, looking back toward camp. She met his gaze once more and gave him the smallest of nods before leaving to join Ed.

 _What the hell was that?_

He couldn't help himself. He watched her walk away, watched Ed come around from behind the tent and catch her from around the waist. She squealed, startled, but then laughed when Ed began kissing her neck. She swatted at him, and Daryl felt a lump form in his throat. The woman was a master of disguise, changing herself to suit the moment.

He distracted himself and helped Merle tear their tent down, but all the while, he couldn't help but wonder what made a woman like Carol settle for a man like Ed. And what the hell kind of bad luck did he have that attracted him to someone he was certain he could never have?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Don't look at me. Ain't my fault you're a dumbass," Daryl spat, shoving his brother's shoulder. Merle laughed and doubled over with his hands on his knees to steady himself. They'd had a buck in their sights, and Merle had had the bright idea to climb into a makeshift deer blind, only for it to come crashing down, scaring off their prize. Ed had nearly fallen down with laughter, and Daryl's first instinct was to check on his brother. He and Carol had helped him up, and as soon as they were sure Merle was in no imminent danger, he'd thought about walloping his older brother.

"Calm down, baby brother. You shoulda seen your face."

"Who the hell climbs a death trap like that anyway?" Daryl asked. "Pop taught you better than that."

"Pop taught with a fist of iron. Fuck him."

"He was a piece-a-shit, but he knew how to track and hunt," Daryl snorted. "Look at you. Drunk and it ain't even noon."

"Hey, it's vacation," Merle laughed, kneeling down to wipe some mud off of his boots. Daryl looked up to see Carol grinning at Merle's ridiculousness. Ed draped his arm over Carol's shoulders and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. She cringed and shoved him away.

"Ed, you stink. I swear you're still sweating out what you drank last night."

"Didn't hear you complainin' last night," he smirked. Carol shoved him off of her once again, succeeding this time, and Daryl had to hold back a grin at the eye roll she cast in his direction.

"See what I mean?" Carol asked. "You don't want to be like these two, drunk before noon and completely unbearable." Merle laughed at that, and Ed crossed his arms across his chest, looking put out and annoyed.

"Hold onto that one, Eddie boy," Merle laughed. "She's somethin' else."

"You been talkin' behind my back?" Ed asked, eyeing Carol and then Daryl. "What she say to you? She bored with me already?" He grabbed for her again, this time a little harder, and she yelped when he pulled her back against him.

"Ed, stop!" Carol bit out, struggling against his strength. Ed laughed and let her go, and she smacked his arm. "You're such an asshole."

"That what she said to you? That I'm an asshole? Is that what she said when you two were flirting this morning?" Ed eyed Daryl, and Daryl's face felt hot. He swallowed and looked at Carol, and she just shook her head as if to tell him to let it go.

Something in Ed's expression changed. His eyes fixed on Daryl's, his face red and his lips pulled in a cocky grin. Without taking his eyes off of Daryl, Ed grabbed Carol by the wrist and pulled her toward him roughly.

"Ow, Ed, stop!" she growled, shoving at his shoulders, but Ed had a firm grip on her, pulling her close, eyeing Daryl the whole time. "Ed, let me go!"

"Hey, c'mon, man," Merle groaned. "Leave her alone. Stop bein' a dick."

"Ed!" Carol grunted, trying to contort herself out of Ed's grip, but he had a good hold on her.

"C'mere," Ed urged, taking Carol's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Gimme a kiss." Carol made a face as his breath hit her in the face, and she groaned, pushing at him again.

"Leave her alone," Daryl bit out, taking a step toward Ed.

"Yeah? What're you gonna do about it, kid?" Ed asked, snorting as he gripped Carol's wrist a little harder.

"Ed, you're hurting me! Stop!" she cried out, tears stinging her eyes as bruises formed under his touch.

"I said let her go!" Daryl growled out, lunging himself at Ed, managing to get between the two and drop Ed's focus from his girlfriend. Carol managed to break free and took a few steps back, as Daryl wrestled Ed to the ground.

"Jesus, we ain't got time for this!" Merle shouted.

"Stop! Please, stop!" Carol cried out, cradling her aching wrist in her other hand. "Guys, knock it off!"

Daryl felt Ed's fist hit him hard in the gut and in the side, knocking the wind out of him briefly before he pinned him down with a knee in the belly and struck him hard on the side of his face before giving the other side a good punch. Before he had a chance to get another punch in, Merle grabbed him under the arms and dragged him to stand, holding him back as Ed turned and coughed into the dirt, spitting blood before bringing his hand to his busted lip.

Daryl's shoulders heaved as he caught his breath, and he couldn't even look her in the eye. He watched as she knelt down next to Ed, saying nothing but turning his face toward her with a gentle touch. She eyed him for a moment before taking her hand away and standing up. She said nothing, turned and walked away, as Ed sat and rubbed his sore jaw and glared up at Daryl and Merle.

"You done, boy?" Ed asked. He looked to Merle and laughed. "You got yourself a goddamn attack dog, huh? Boy's full of piss and fire."

"Get your drunk ass up, Peletier," Merle spat. "You put your hands on that little lady again, and I ain't gonna stop him from beatin' the shit outta your sorry ass." Merle clapped Daryl on the shoulder. "Take a walk, baby brother." Daryl's skin felt hot and raw, and his muscles jumped and flexed as his breath slowed to normal. "Hey. You hear me?" Merle gave Daryl's shoulder and forced him to look him in the eye. "You hear me? Hey. You're alright."

"I'm fine," Daryl grunted, shrugging off his brother's hand and taking off toward a row of bushes. Once in silence, he leaned back against a tree, pulled a cigarette from the packet in his shirt pocket and lit it up. He took a shaky breath and felt the sting hit his eyes as his muscles ached and throbbed. He could almost feel the sharp crack and sting of the thick leather belt cutting into his skin.

"Thanks." Daryl turned away the moment he saw her step into his peripheral view. He wiped at his eyes quickly, blinking back the sting. He took a long drag on the cigarette and kicked the toe of his boot into the side of the tree. The leaves crackled under Carol's hiking boots. "I'm sorry about him."

"Why you apologizin'? He's the asshole."

"Yeah," Carol murmured. "He's never…he's never grabbed me like that. He's drunk, and…"

"Don't start makin' excuses for him now. I know how that story ends." He turned then, dry-eyed, and he flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot. He looked down to see her rubbing her sore wrist. "He hurt you."

"It'll heal."

"Yeah, 'til he does it again. Don't care if this prick is drunk or not, he ain't gonna put his hands on you." Carol's breath caught in her throat, watching as Daryl's own breath began to quicken. He knew she knew. She was a social worker after all. She'd seen it all. And something in her eyes told him that she knew this was just the beginning. Still, the light in her eyes changed.

"Hey, it's ok."

"It ain't," he bit out. His voice was rough, and he took a step toward her. She didn't move, only tilted her head to keep his gaze. He reached out then, hesitating briefly as if afraid to touch her. "Let me see." Carol held her hand out to him then, and he gently turned her wrist in his hand. "This hurt?"

"No. It's ok," she offered, before winching when it popped. "Ok, maybe it's not."

"Here." Daryl grabbed for the red bandana hanging from the back of his pocket, and he gently began to wrap her wrist. "Don't worry. It's clean." Carol couldn't help the hint of a smile that quirked up at the corner of her mouth. She watched as his rough, calloused fingers worked slowly and gently to create a brace, looping it to tie between her thumb and forefinger for a firm hold. "How's that?"

"Good. It helps."

"It's startin' to swell. Might wanna get it looked at when we get back." Carol nodded a little before looking back up with tears in her eyes. He wasn't sure why, but he hadn't expected that. She sniffled and took a step forward.

"Thank you. Merle told me you were the sweet one. I don't know how _he_ meant it," she chuckled. "But you are. Thank you." She leaned in, and it took everything within him not to take a big step back into his own personal space. But the moment she kissed his cheek, he felt the flames dancing just beneath his skin, and his breath quivered when she pulled back a little slower than he expected. Her gaze lingered on his, and then she took a step back, blushing a little bit, too.

"You two gonna make googly eyes at each other all day, or are we gonna head back?" Daryl turned to glare at his brother. "Come on. Ed's got a hell of a hangover coming. Let's get him home to sleep it off. Think this trip's as good as over anyway."

...

The off road paths weren't meant for vehicle use, but Merle Dixon had never been much one to care about laws and boundaries. Since he was seventeen and got his hands on a buddy's drug stash, he'd learned how to maneuver his truck out into the cover of the woods for privacy to make his sales. He wasn't exactly proud of it, but it was what it was. He'd brought more than a few women out into the heart of the woods to park and screw around, and well, that _was_ something he was proud of, something he boasted to Daryl about whenever he had a chance.

But as the truck bounced and jostled and crunched over tree limbs, Merle seemed a little uneasy, ready to get the hell out and head back home. Maybe it was the hungover asshole in his passenger seat. Maybe it was the quiet and injured girl in the back that probably never would've gotten hurt if he hadn't had the bright idea to invite Ed in the first place.

Daryl noticed Merle's change of demeanor, but he was too focused on watching Carol to say anything.

He watched the way she leaned her head sleepily against the window. He watched as her body swayed and jumped with each jostle of the rickety old truck. He watched how her hands sat clasped firmly in her lap. Every once in a while, she'd let out a soft moan and gently rub her sore wrist, and Daryl felt the heat rise up in his chest again as his hatred for Ed Peletier grew. Maybe it wasn't healthy to have such hatred for a person he barely knew, but he'd been around him long enough to know that Ed Peletier was no good, and Carol deserved a hell of a lot more than his sorry ass.

When Merle pulled out onto a gravel road, he hit the gas, and dust and rock sprayed up behind them, rattling against the underside of the truck as they rushed toward civilization.

"You alright back there?" Merle asked, glancing in the dirty rear-view mirror.

"I'm ok," Carol offered softly. "Just ready for a long shower."

"Drop me off at her place," Ed offered. "I'll crash there."

"You can drop him off at the county land fill for all I care," Carol spat. Daryl perked up next to her.

"Aw, baby. You know I didn't mean it," Ed offered, turning in the passenger's seat. "Forgive me?"

"Go to hell, Ed." She leaned back in her seat, and Daryl couldn't help but smirk when Ed looked at him.

"Bitch," Ed spat out, before bringing his hands to his head. "Fuck. Pull over, Merle." Merle brought the truck to a grinding halt, and Ed jumped out, bending over to throw up into the ditch. Carol turned away from the sight and gently wrapped her fingers around her injured wrist.

"You sure you're ok?" Daryl asked.

"Mmm," she murmured with a nod. "I am now."

Just as Ed got back into the truck, the truck shook, startling its four passengers.

"What the hell was that?" Merle put his hand on the dash, wondering if the old truck was finally about to fall apart one last time.

"Earthquake?" Ed asked.

"That's no earthquake," Carol murmured, bringing her hand to her chest. She nodded in the direction of the skyline down the road. Clouds of dark smoke were starting to rising high into the billowy white clouds.

"Jesus Christ," Merle muttered. "What the hell's going on out there?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Anything?" Merle asked. He held his hand above his eyes and squinted up at Carol as she stood in the back of the pickup truck with her cell phone in hand.

"Nothing," she murmured. "Maybe we're too far out."

"Nah," Daryl muttered, climbing up into the back of the truck next to her. "It ain't that."

"Well, let me try yours then," she offered, holding her hand out. Daryl stared at her for a moment and shifted uncomfortably. "Well?"

"Uh, I ain't got one."

"You don't have one?" She blinked incredulously at him for a moment before looking at Merle.

"Hell, them things ain't nothin' but a pain in the asshole," Merle snorted.

"You don't have one for emergencies? Nothing?" Carol asked. She sighed and looked down at Ed, who was stabbing his finger at the screen on his own phone. "What about you?"

"Damn thing's useless," he spat. He threw the gadget down, and the screen cracked against a rock.

"What's wrong with you?!" Carol hollered. She started out of the truck, but Merle put his hand up, and Daryl reached out to catch her by the arm when she tripped over the rifle bag and nearly toppled off the side. She gasped and flinched in surprise, and Daryl let go of her almost as quickly as he'd grabbed her.

"You ok?"

"Yeah. I'm good." Was that a hint of pink in her cheeks that Daryl saw? Surely not. No, she'd just been out in the sun too long. That was all.

Daryl climbed down first, and he held his hand out to help Carol step down. Their eyes met when she lowered herself down, and he felt his own cheeks burning. But that only lasted a moment, because when Carol whipped around to face Ed, he could almost see the muscles in her small frame tense up as she stalked across to grab his phone out of the dirt.

"Congratulations," she seethed, shoving it into Ed's hand. "You ruined it."

"It's fuckin' useless out here. Can't get a damned signal, anyway. 'Sides, I need a new phone." Carol huffed at that and turned around, face red and shoulders trembling as she made her way back to the truck.

"Hey, look, why don't we all calm down here?" Merle asked, as another boom sounded in the distance. Carol jumped, and a flock of birds flew up out of the trees, soaring overhead toward the deepest part of the woods. "The way I see it, whatever the hell's goin' on out there, we got a ride, and we got weapons, so why don't we just go take ourselves a peek? If shit's goin' down, we'll know to stay clear."

"You think that's a good idea?" Carol asked, glancing at Daryl. "Going toward the explosions?"

"Best take our chances in the woods," Ed offered. "If World War 3 is knockin' on our front door, we might as well go out the back." Ed wiped the sweat from his brow and reached into the back of the truck to grab a rifle from the bag.

Carol looked to Daryl again.

"What do you think?" she asked, eyes narrowing as she watched him think through his options. He looked at her, saw the way her blue eyes sparkled, how they widened with fear when rapid gunfire echoed through the trees, a little too close for comfort.

"I say we stick with Merle's plan," he finally decided. "Stick to the back roads, get as close as we can. See what we see. If shit's goin' down, we leave, stick things out in the woods 'til it's over."

"Is that safe?"

"Safer than stayin' in the thick of it." Merle spat onto the ground.

"We can hunt. Know how to look for fresh water. We'll be alright. Merle and me spent more time in the woods than out of 'em growin' up, didn't we?"

"Damn right, baby brother," Merle grinned. "C'mon. Let's go for a ride." He slapped the side of the truck and pulled back the front seat, motioning for Carol to climb into the back. "You gonna stand there all day?" Carol glanced to Daryl and then to Ed before reluctantly climbing into the back of the truck. Daryl followed behind her, while Ed took the passenger's seat, and the four of them drove toward the smoke and the thundering explosions, minds reeling with the horrendous possibilities of what they'd find when they made their way back to civilization.

...

"Try again," Daryl insisted, reaching between the front seats to turn the dial on the radio.

"Static," Merle bit out. "No cell service. No radio signals. Looks like the end of times." He let out a little chuckle, and Daryl sat back in his seat. He glanced at Carol who was worrying her lip between her teeth, staring off out the window as they bumped and jostled over the uneven back roads.

"Don't listen to him." Despite the softness of Daryl's voice, Carol jumped. He'd been so quiet for the past hour, hearing him speak was almost unsettling. Out of the three men she was traveling with, the only one she really felt she could trust was the brother of the friend of the guy she'd come out here with. Something about him told her that he was a man of few words, and when he did use them, he had a good reason.

"Maybe he's right," she offered. "We leave society for a few days, and everything falls apart. That goes to show you how important we are." She managed to make her own self smile, and Daryl watched the way her face fell and how she ran her fingers through her hair, gently tugging on the ends before leaning her head back against the seat rest.

"Merle and me got lost in the woods once," Daryl offered.

"He's a damn liar," Merle snorted.

"Shut up," Daryl muttered, kicking the seat. "We did. I was nine. Made Merle, what, twelve?"

"Almost thirteen," Merle insisted. "I was mature for my age."

"You're mature for that age _now_ ," Carol teased, getting a laugh out of Daryl's older brother. Ed looked back at Carol, vile, biting words just begging to be let out. But he bit them back and turned with a huff in his seat.

"How'd you get lost?" Carol asked, ignoring the very tense air from the front of the cab.

"Merle made himself a compass. Turns out, he got it all wrong. Said we was walkin' north, but we were goin' west. We were out there a good week, eatin' squirrel and rabbit."

"Oh my god," Carol murmured. "How long before they found you?"

"Who? You think anybody was lookin' for us?" Merle asked with a laugh. "Hell, when we wandered up all filthy and covered in blood and dirt, the first thing our daddy said was 'fetch my belt.'"

"Merle," Daryl barked.

"He was a son of a bitch," Merle continued. Carol glanced at Daryl, who looked away, looked out the window with his hands white knuckling his own knees. She reached over, gently placing her hand over his. He jumped at her touch, but she didn't move her hand away. His gaze met hers, and she gave him an encouraging smile. He held her gaze for the briefest of moments before he looked away again, fighting against the urge ingrained in him to pull away into his own personal space. But he let her try to comfort him, because, hell, maybe she needed that, too.

...

They'd taken the back roads to the top of a blue-green quarry that over looked the tops of Atlanta skyscrapers. Merle had parked the truck at the crest of the hill, and he and Daryl had got out to try to get a better look. Carol was fidgeting with her phone, trying desperately to get a signal, to send a text out to a friend, to get a phone call to go through. But her efforts proved futile, and before long, she was tossing her phone into her purse in defeat.

"You lookin' to fuck every swingin' dick in this ride?" Ed asked, turning to look at Carol with disgust. Carol flinched at Ed's sharp words.

"Excuse me?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him and his sudden and inappropriate question.

"Can't quite put a finger on which one you're trying to mess with. You been flirtin' with Merle all fuckin' day, but you keep makin' eyes at his baby brother."

"I haven't…you...what is your problem?" Carol balked.

"My problem? My goddamned slut of a girlfriend is lettin' every man know what a whore she is by battin' her eyes and…"

"Girlfriend? In case you didn't get the memo, this is over. The second you put your hands on me, you lost the right to call me your girlfriend." She leaned forward just enough to make his jaw drop. "You don't get to call me a whore." She kicked Merle's seat forward and jumped out of the truck.

Moments later, Ed was tearing out of the truck, coming around with sweat beading at his brow. He was red faced and shaking, and the second he came for Carol, he was met with a sharp blow to the stomach. Then he was falling back against the truck. He blinked in surprise and fought the urge to puke as another blow pummeled his stomach.

"Get the fuck off me!" Ed hollered, pushing back to see Daryl Dixon gritting his teeth and straining to push Ed against the truck.

"You keep your hands off her," Daryl growled, reaching up to grip Ed's throat. "I ain't tellin' you again." With one last rough shove against the side of Merle's truck, Daryl turned to see Carol gaping at the two of them, while Merle smirked at him and went back to peering through binoculars.

"He's not worth it," Carol murmured as Daryl passed her by. He paused for a moment and kept on walking, while Carol moved toward the edge of the quarry to peer down below into the beautiful waters.

The air smelled burnt, and dark, billowy clouds of smoke rose from deep within the city. Emergency sirens echoed through the quarry, bouncing off the rocks and creating an unsettling cacophony against the backdrop of rustling leaves and the chittering of forest creatures oblivious to whatever turmoil was happening.

"See about six choppers circling. Looks like they're armed. Dropping shit in the streets." Ed grabbed the binoculars from Merle and looked for himself.

"Christ," Ed muttered. "Looks like a goddamned war zone."

"I'm trying the radio again." Carol slid into the truck and turned the dial on the radio. One particularly static-filled channel buzzed with what sounded like a song before going silent again. But as she fidgeted with the dial on the old radio, a deep voice came through, cracking and halting in the static, but it was something.

"Hey, I got something," she called, as the three men came rushing toward the truck.

" _Curfew. Crews are patrolling…armed…safe zones are being set up…traffic on the interstates_."

"Shit, what's he sayin'?" Daryl growled, banging on top of the dash as if that would do any good.

"Shh," Carol urged.

" _Epidemic. Stay away from the infected…bit."_

"He say 'bit'?" Merle asked, reaching up to flick the antenna before leaning into the cab to try to hear better.

 _"Stay inside—quarantine—evacuation—sharp object through brain after death—."_ Carol's hand was at her stomach, and she groaned audibly as the voice on the radio faded to constant static.

"They said quarantine," Carol murmured. "An epidemic." She shivered and pushed back from the truck. Daryl eyed her as she wrapped her arms about her middle and moved off away from the group a few steps. When she turned, her eyes bore into his, so many questions lingering behind those bright, blue eyes. "What does an epidemic have to do with all…all of this?" She swept her hand toward the destruction down town, as three helicopters flew overhead toward the middle of the city. Shouts from a megaphone were muffled by the blades.

One of the helicopters broke off from the rest, turning back toward the small group, and Daryl took one step toward Carol. He was the first to see the glint off of barrel of an assault rifle, and before he had time to say a word, the man with the gun open fired.

"Get down!" Daryl grabbed for Carol's hand, pulling her toward the truck, pushing her down, covering her as bullets ricocheted off of the truck as some dug into the soil, sending red clouds of dust everywhere. Daryl heard Merle scream out in pain before he rolled under the truck, grabbing his shoulder as blood gushed out from between his fingers.

Daryl stayed over her, hearing her muffled screams against his chest. Her fingers dug into his sides, and the sting of dirt and sweat filled his eyes. The smell of gasoline was everywhere, and the hiss of air as bullets punctured tires clouded his ears.

"We're gonna die," she whimpered under him.

"Don't move. Don't move. It's almost over. Just keep yer eyes closed." He rolled away from her, taking her hand. "Stay low. Don't get up. Just move with me." He crouched low, moving toward the tree line, and she gripped his hand, following him, guiding herself by digging her fingers into the earth beneath them.

Dust and dirt continued to fly up behind them as the shooter's aim followed them to the trees. Once a few yards into the cover of the woods, Daryl pulled Carol up behind a tree, and they both leaned into it, gasping for breath, flinching at the sounds of blades whirring over top of them.

"Don't move," Daryl panted, as Carol pulled herself into him, burying her face against his shoulder. "Don't move. They'll leave. They're gonna leave." They waited for several minutes under the cover of the thick Georgia pines, and when the sound faded toward the city, Carol loosened her grip on Daryl's arms, looking up, her face a breath away from his. She panted softly, blinking back the tears in her eyes, and she pushed back from him.

"They're gone?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," he murmured, keeping his eyes locked on hers, keeping his voice low and even to try and keep her calm. "You ok?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Are you….oh, Daryl. You're bleeding." She gently touched his arm, where a shallow cut spanned about three inches on his bicep.

"Just cut it on a tree branch. It's alright. Ain't shot."

"Here," Carol murmured, unwrapping Daryl's red bandana from her wrist.

"You need it," he insisted.

"You're bleeding. I'm not." She gently dabbed at the cut with the bandana until the bleeding seemed to stop, and then she tucked it into the purse that was still slung across chest and shoulder. "Is it safe?"

"C'mon. Merle's out there. Stay behind me." She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, following closely behind Daryl as they started back for the clearing by the quarry.

Merle's truck was a mess. Two destroyed tires, bullet-riddled sides and broken out windows, and a trail of gas dripping into the gravel and down the hill.

"Merle!" Daryl called. He squinted into the sunlight before leaning down to peer under the truck. There was no sign of Merle save for the small pool of blood now diluted with gasoline.

"Ed!" Carol yelled out. "Merle!" No answer.

"Merle!" Daryl tried again, running back into the trees. "Merle!"

"Daryl!" Carol called, beckoning him back. "Daryl, the rifle bag's gone. It's gone." She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Daryl rushed over, tearing through the bags in the back, coming up with nothing.

"God damn it," he cursed, banging his fist against the side of the truck.

"Daryl. Daryl!" Carol grabbed his arm, and he looked at her first, seeing the terror in her eyes, and when he followed her gaze, he saw a man stumbling their way from down the hill. He walked on a broken ankle, bloody with the bone sticking out. The sound escaping his throat was like air coming out of a wet sack. The eyes were white, glazed over and staring at them, staring through them. The teeth gnashed, the mouth was smeared with blood, the fingers twitched as he reached for them. "Daryl!"

"Stay back," he yelled, yanking open the passenger's side door and reaching under the seat. Wrapped in an oily old rag was a glock 17 handgun Merle had stolen from their daddy way back when. He rummaged underneath a little deeper before pulling out a box of bullets. "Come on. Let's go." He threw his crossbow over his shoulder and grabbed the bag of arrows. Carol stood stock still, watching as the man came closer. "Hey! C'mon. We gotta go. We gotta go." Carol took a shaky breath and grabbed blindly at a bag and a few bottles of water before they headed off into the trees, the snarls of the injured man echoing behind them in the wind.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Hold up. Stop," Daryl grunted, crouching down next to a small stream. He dipped his hand into the water, bringing it to his mouth to taste before drinking another handful. "Gimme that empty bottle." They'd been running through the woods for the better part of an hour, and they'd shared one bottle of water between them.

"We have more," Carol offered.

"We might need it," Daryl insisted, filling the bottle with discolored water. "We can boil it later." Carol let out a shuddering sigh, and Daryl stood. He screwed the cap back on the bottle and passed it to her. She put it back in the bag, and Daryl nodded toward it. "What else we got?"

"I grabbed Ed's bag. Just some trail mix and a couple bottles of whiskey."

"We gotta find shelter. It's gonna get dark soon, and we don't wanna get caught with our asses hangin' out. Those men in the helicopters come back, we don't wanna be here." Carol nodded then, and she rubbed her sore wrist. "You alright?"

"Yeah. It's just not every day you get shot at by men in helicopters and run into a man that looks like… _that_." She shuddered at the memory. "What was wrong with him, Daryl?"

"Don't know. I expect somethin' to do with that they were sayin' on the radio. Let's just keep movin'."

"What about your brother and Ed?"

"Merle was shot, but he knows how to take care of himself. Didn't have time to pick up a trail." Carol wiped at her nose as they started walking briskly through the woods again. "We'll find a place to sleep tonight. Tomorrow, maybe we can double back and see what we see."

"You think that's a good idea?" she asked. "Going back there? What if that man's still there? He looked…he looked _dead_ , Daryl." A round of rapid gunfire silenced them, and Daryl grabbed Carol's hand, leading her to a thick, overgrown bush.

"Get down," he whispered, tugging her down into the dirt with him.

"It sounds far away," she whispered.

"Just stay down." Another explosion shook the ground, and Carol gasped. They stayed low for a few moments, until the sound of gunfire fell away into the distance. When Daryl nodded, they stood and kept going in the direction they'd been heading.

They walked in silence for several minutes, before Daryl held his hand up, silently signaling her to stop. He hauled his crossbow off of his shoulder, aiming it, listening. Carol could hear nothing but the sound of her breath and his, the sound of leaves crunching under their shoes. When he lowered his crossbow and then slung it back over his shoulder, Carol eyed him.

"What was it?"

"Think it was a deer. It took off."

"I didn't see anything."

"It was close, but I ain't chasin' after it. C'mon. Let's keep goin'." Carol nodded then, gripping her bag a little tighter before she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth and continued following him quietly through the trees.

They didn't find shelter by sundown, but in the dim light of dusk, Daryl managed to scope out a good spot for them to make camp. With nothing but red, Georgia dirt and dead leaves for a bed, they settled down against the wide base of a tall pine tree. Daryl kept his crossbow beside him and the gun he'd grabbed from Merle's truck draped across his lap, ready for whatever might come along. Carol sat next to him, shivering as the night turned cool.

"Move a little closer. It'll be warmer." His heart raced just saying those words. He was the kind of guy that slept alone, that kept to his own for the most part, but he sure as hell _wasn't_ the kind of guy who'd let a woman shiver and suffer in the cool night air if he could help it.

"Thanks," she whispered. He could almost hear her teeth chattering. "You're sweet."

"I ain't," he snorted. She was shaking next to him, and she scooted a little closer. "Try rubbin' your hands down your arms. It'll help."

"Can't we make a fire?"

"Nah," Daryl muttered. "Then men in the helicopters might see."

"Maybe they were just coming after that man. Maybe they weren't…"

"They shot Merle. Woulda killed us. They come back, they ain't gonna let us go." Carol flinched then, and Daryl rested his head back against the tree.

"Daryl, we're gonna die, aren't we?" Her voice was quiet. Almost a whisper.

"No. We ain't. Whatever the hell is goin' on out there, we're out here, and we ain't in it. Tomorrow, we'll get up at first light and go for the truck. See if we can pick up Merle's trail. Or Ed's."

"Ed's probably really mad right now."

"Why?"

"Because I've got this," she chuckled, pulling the bag into her lap. "You want a drink? It might warm you up."

"Nah." Carol sighed then, pulling the bottle out of the bag and unscrewing the cap. "I'm willing to try anything." She took a long swing, drinking it down without even making a face, and Daryl couldn't help but be impressed. She held the bottle out to him, and he paused for a moment before grabbing it and taking a long swig for himself. He passed it back to her, and she put the cap back on, tucking it back into the black bag.

"Warm yet?" Daryl asked, getting a little laugh out of her.

"A little warmer," she offered. "But not much." She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tree. They sat in silence, listening to the terrifying silence. No crickets. No cicadas. The occasional coyote would howl and chill her blood, but soon, they were both drifting off to sleep.

...

"Get up! Carol!" Carol's eyes flew open, and she felt Daryl tugging on her hand, urging her to stand. "C'mon. We gotta go!"

"Daryl?"

"Get up. Get up." He pulled her to her feet, tossing her the bag and grabbing his weapons.

"What happened? I can't see anything…" She squinted into the darkness, hearing the awful, hoarse moans like they'd heard out of that poor man at the quarry. "Daryl! What's happening?" She felt his hand on hers, and then he was pulling her through the dark.

"Just stay with me."

"Was that that man?"

"Don't think so. Think there was two of 'em. Maybe three."

"Oh God," she choked out.

"Quiet. Just don't stop." They ran until their lungs burned, until Carol stumbled and fell forward, cutting the palm of her hand on the jagged edge of a large rock. She could hear his footsteps falling away from her, and she let out a choked cry, only to hear him running back to her, kneeling in the dirt to peer through the darkness as the cut on her hand.

"You ok? You bleeding?"

"Yeah," she choked out. "I'm ok." She hissed in pain when she felt cool water sloshing over the wound from one of the bottles of water he grabbed out of the pack.

"We gotta find walls," he grunted. "Think I saw a light up ahead."

"Someone's house?"

"Hunting cabin, maybe. Can't see there bein' no houses out here. Not this far into the woods."

"What about the light?"

"Probably a solar light. Or maybe someone's there. Don't know. We gotta take our chances. You ok to run?"

"Yeah," she panted, standing and wiping sweat from her brow as they started through a clearing toward a pale, white light.

Within minutes, they reached the small cabin where little solar lights lined the footpath leading up to the dark shack. Daryl kept his gun drawn and aimed, but there was no need, as the door was wide open, and the only inhabitant was a scared raccoon that took off out into the woods from under an old, tattered bed in the corner.

"This place'll be good for the night," Daryl coughed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He ushered Carol into the dark cabin, and she grabbed her cell phone from her purse, turning on the flashlight to help him look around for matches for a lantern that sat next to the sink in the corner.

Within a few minutes, a soft, orange glow filled the cabin, and Carol looked around to see a couch and another bed as well as a small table and what looked like a functional kitchen. A small bathroom was dusty from lack of use but otherwise functioning.

"Looks like nobody's been here in a while," Carol murmured, as she helped Daryl look through cabinets and drawers for food. They came up empty handed, but at least they had protection from the elements for the night.

They collapsed on separate beds adjacent from one another, and Daryl reached into Ed's pack, grabbing a couple of small packages of trail mix. He tossed one to her, and they sat there eating in stunned silence as the wind picked up, winding and pushing against the old structure with such force Carol feared it might just collapse on them.

"How's your hand?" he asked.

"Good," she promised, dabbing at it with a small towel she'd found in one of the drawers. "It's barely bleeding now. How's your arm?"

"Stopped bleedin' a while ago. Don't think I'm gonna need stitches."

"Good." She leaned her head back against the wall. "I didn't want to be here."

"What?"

"Ed wanted to come out and bag himself a buck. I wanted to go away for the weekend. I wanted to go somewhere sunny, preferably with a beach." She snorted. "As always, Ed had the final say. Now I'm here in the middle of nowhere being chased by sick people in the woods. If you can call them people." She shivered. "This is a nightmare." Daryl said nothing. He took another handful of trail mix and stretched out on his back.

"Nightmares end. Don't think that's what this is," he muttered, folding his arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. Carol leaned back on her own bed, staring up at the cobwebs before closing her eyes to the sting of fresh tears. Her lower lip trembled but she did not cry. She would not make a sound. All she could do was pray for sleep and wait for the morning light to break through the thick pine forest and chase the darkness away.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sleep wasn't in the cards for either of them. They rested, but the sounds of the wind and the occasional distant sound of helicopters kept them far from relaxed enough to sleep well. When the first rays of morning light reached their remote hideaway, they began moving about the cabin again, looking for anything they could use. The place was pretty much an empty shell with a couch and a couple beds.

They shared a clean bottle of water and a bag of trail mix for breakfast, and before the morning fog lifted, they were heading back toward where they'd started from at Merle's truck.

"You think he'd still be there?" Carol asked, being the first to break the silence of the morning.

"He's hurt. We were pretty far from the city. He ain't dumb enough to risk passin' out in the woods from the blood loss. He probably took shelter in the woods like we did 'til them boys in the helicopters left. My guess is he took the guns, ran and hid and came back to sleep in the truck."

"Or," Carol murmured, "Ed took the guns and ran, Merle ran after him, and they're both still out there." Daryl looked at her then. "I'm sorry. My job is almost exclusively about worst case scenarios. Every home I visit, I prepare for the worst, and I'm usually still shocked." Daryl nodded a little then, and he pulled a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it and took a long drag. "How far do you think we are?"

"Few miles. Don't think we…"

"Daryl!" Carol put her hand on his shoulder, and he glanced at her briefly before he followed her gaze about a quarter mile ahead, where several people were walking slowly toward them. "They're like the man yesterday. And the people in the woods last night." Daryl nodded then, holding his arm out, keeping her from getting in front of him.

"Stay behind me," he ordered, grabbing his crossbow. The people ahead didn't make any move to walk faster. They just continued in their direction, stumbling, bumping into one another, and the closer they got, the louder that awful rasping groan became. "Stay back. Whatever you got, we ain't aimin' to catch it!"

"Daryl, I…I think they're dead." Daryl looked at her and then he looked back at the group coming toward them with those same sputtering, rasping groans escaping their lips. Their hands outstretched, fingers twitching as they reached out, and Daryl took a few steps back, leading Carol to do the same right behind him.

"I'm warnin' ya. Get back!" he called, grabbing his gun from his back pocket. He aimed it right at the group, but nothing he said or did deterred them. Carol gripped his arm, tugging him, urging him to run with her. Another group of six or seven people came out around the other group, all walking their way, all preying on them. "We gotta get back to that truck. We gotta."

"Daryl," Carol hissed, pulling on his arm. "Look!" Another woman stumbled out from the bushes a little too close to them for comfort. A chunk was missing from the side of her neck, and her clothes were stained with her own blood. No way in hell somebody could survive that. She came toward them, hands outstretched, fingers twitching, eyes pale and dead, teeth gnashing as she came at them. Daryl stumbled back, and his finger slipped on the trigger, firing a bullet right into the woman's gut. Carol cried out in surprise, partially from the sound, partially because the woman didn't flinch, didn't cry out, didn't stop, didn't fall. She kept coming. He shot her again, this time in the leg, and she stumbled but didn't fall. And Daryl remembered the words on the radio.

"Through the head."

"What?" Carol asked.

"It's gotta be the head." He aimed the gun again, delivering a final shot to the woman's head, and she fell backward to the ground, finally still. Carol stepped toward the woman, peering down at the wound on her neck.

"Nobody could survive that. Are those teeth marks?" She looked to Daryl, who stood there, stiff and pale with sweat beading at his brow. He looked half-sick, and she put a hand on his shoulder. "Daryl?"

"She was bit." Carol's gaze flitted between Daryl and the group coming toward them.

"So this is what? Like rabies?" Carol asked.

"Ain't never seen rabies like that."

"How is this possible?" she asked, as the rasps from the group down the trail grew louder.

"We gotta go," Daryl urged. "They're dead. Look at 'em. They're dead."

"The truck," Carol stammered, hoisting Ed's pack up her shoulder. "What about…what about your brother?" She put her hand to her stomach, doubling over for a moment, trying to calm her breathing. "We could go around, and…"

"We could go 'round and 'round in these woods all day. We gotta put distance between us and them." He nodded toward the group. "We'll circle around. Put a good mile between us and them and go back."

"Ok," Carol murmured, sniffling and gripping the strap of her pack. She fumbled with her purse for a moment, as they started off. She grabbed her cell phone, checking for service to find none. She turned it off to save the battery and tossed it back into her purse.

She looked over her shoulder to see the herd following them. They didn't move fast, but there were so many.

"C'mon. Don't slow down," Daryl urged.

"They're not in any hurry," Carol remarked. "I've never seen anything like it. Do you think that's what the explosions were about? Do you think this is some…I don't know, some germ warfare or…"

"Don't know what it is, but I sure as hell ain't lookin' to stick around and get a closer look at 'em."

"We should find a highway. We could flag someone down," Carol offered. She looked up into the tree tops and shivered. It was quiet despite the moans of the people following them. They picked up the pace, climbing up over some large rocks, hoping that might slow the herd behind them. Gunfire somewhere in the distance—perhaps in the city—echoed through the woods.

"Take this." Daryl reached out handing the gun to Carol. She gently took it in her hands and held it like it was about to explode. "You never shot a gun before?"

"No. I haven't. Ed wanted to take me shooting, but we never got around to it." She shrugged. Daryl stopped then, realizing they'd lost the herd for now, and he stepped up to stand in front of her. "And now it looks like we never will." She shook her head. "I'm at least glad I got to see the real Ed before all hell broke loose. "

"That make it easier that he's gone?"

"I'm not glad he's gone or...or missing or whatever he is. I mean, I don't wish him any harm, and I hope he's ok out there, but I'm glad I saw who he really was before I did something stupid like marry him." Daryl eyed her for a minute.

"Stand like this." He shifted his weight and relaxed his posture for a moment, and she mimicked his actions. "Good. Alright, now extend your arm." He stepped around behind her and brought his hand to her arms, guiding her and showing her how to hold the gun safely. "Safety's on. You push this, it turns off, and then you take your shot. You got it?

"I think so," she murmured, nodding her head. Daryl nodded, giving her a gentle tap on the shoulder, urging her to lower the gun. She did so, and he nodded toward her.

"You got a belt?" he asked. She nodded, reaching to unzip her jacket and tuck her shirt into her jeans. "Tuck it in your belt. Ain't a holster, but it'll do." Carol nodded and did just that.

"What about you?"

"I got this," he offered, hoisting his crossbow off of his back and holding it with both hands. "One of them things comes at you, you shoot. Don't hesitate."

"What if…what if they're just sick?"

"You heard the explosions. You saw her come at me. She shoulda been dead. She _was_ dead. And I'm willin' to bet the bite made her that way, so it's you or them." Carol nodded then, and the rasping growls began to filter back into earshot. "Let's go." They took off then, sprinting through the trees, hoping like hell they'd make it back to the quarry without further complications.

...

The truck was nothing but a burnt shell when they returned to it, and Carol covered her mouth at the stench of a rotting corpse—the corpse that had been walking on a broken ankle just the day before—lying with its head crushed in next to the vehicle.

"Someone was here." Daryl noticed the scuffed footprints in the dirt near the scorched patch where the gasoline trail had ignited and made its way back up to the truck. "There was a struggle. See these gun casings? Best bet is the muzzle flare sparked the fire."

"You think it was Merle?"

"Somebody with a gun. These look like ours." He picked up the casing and held it up. "Somebody was here. They been gone a few hours at least." He started toward the trees again, and Carol followed. A trail of blood droplets trailed toward the trees and then back out onto the dirt, as if someone dizzy had been walking around. "Merle was losin' blood. Might have got dizzy. Might have…" He started to the edge of the quarry, peering over the edge to see what he could. Down below the deep, blue water sparkled in the late morning sun. He saw nothing on the rocks below, and he turned back to Carol. "We gotta get down there."

"Down there?" Carol asked. "If those helicopters come back, we're sitting ducks." Daryl chewed the inside of his bottom lip for a moment before nodding.

"Alright," he grunted. "We get down there, see what we see, and then we head back to the highway. We'll be quick. We need food. More water. Don't want another night like last night."

"Maybe there's a shelter or something. Maybe they've got set ups at the schools or the hospitals. We could try to get into Atlanta, maybe Grady Memorial."

"You think it's still there?" he asked. They peered over toward what was the Atlanta skyline. A few of the tall buildings could no longer be seen, and tall, dark pillars of smoke rose up into the clear, blue sky. "We'll play it safe. Find a place to stay for the night. Get some food. Water. Tomorrow, we'll see." Carol nodded then, shivering as the wind changed direction. "C'mon. Let's make this quick."

They carefully made their way down to the bottom of the quarry, where the water lapped at the rocky shore, and frogs leapt into the water at their arrival.

Carol peered up toward the top where they'd come from, and she squinted into the sunlight.

"Found somethin'," Daryl grunted, reaching into the water to pull out the soaked pack that Carol recognized as her own. Her eyes went wide.

"How'd it get all the way down here?"

"Got anything worth savin'?"

"A change of clothes. That'll dry. I had a couple of bottles of water and some matches."

"Some good those'll be now."

"I had them in a plastic bag. They should be ok." She took the bag and opened it, shuffling through her soaked clothes to pull out the plastic bag with matches. "See? They're still dry."

"Good thinkin'," Daryl murmured.

"Anything else?"

"Nah. Can't see nothin'. Merle!" The rasping groans returned, and Carol gasped.

"Daryl!"

"S'alright. Every sound for two miles echoes 'round here. We got a few minutes. Merle!" Carol swallowed hard and looked back up to the top before deciding to trust Daryl. After all, he seemed to be the kind of guy that spent most of his time out in the wilderness anyway. If anybody could keep her safe, he could.

Carol knelt down by the water, dipping her hands into it, feeling the cool chill of it against her fingertips. She splashed a little on her face, wiping away the sweat and the dirt she'd no doubt been wearing since yesterday afternoon.

Just as she dipped her hand in again, something grabbed her from under the water. She screamed, and Daryl reached for her, pulling her back as a strong, water-logged hand curled around her wrist.

"Hold on! I got ya!" He tugged her back then, and she wrenched her arm away from the hand's grip just as the body surfaced in the shallow part of the water. Carol's eyes widened at the sight before her before she reached for her gun and clicked the safety off. The face was water-logged with skin sloughing off. The ear was torn off, and teeth-shaped marks were scraped into his jaw.

"Ed," she choked out, stomach turning as the smell hit her. He dragged his belly across the rocks, treading water as the sharp edges ripped into his loose skin. "Oh God." Blood and puss spilled out into the water, and the gun shook in Carol's hand.

"You want me to…"

"No. Ed. Ed?" His mouth opened, and blood and water spilled out, and his eyes bulged from his head, pale and white and staring right at her, through her. A raspy snarl left his throat, and Carol looked away.

"That ain't Ed," Daryl urged, pulling Carol to her feet. "That ain't Ed anymore." Tears spilled over as Carol took a shaking breath and pointed the gun down toward Ed's head.

"Ed, if you're…I have to be sure. Ed…" Again, he snarled, snapping his teeth as he curled his hand around her ankle. She quickly shook off his grip, and with trembling hands, she put a bullet through his head, watching the blood spill out onto the rocks as his lifeless eyes stared at her boots.

She leaned over then, throwing up into the dirt, and Daryl went to her, taking the gun from her shaking hands.

"It was you or him."

"I had to be sure," she choked out. "I killed him."

"He was dead already," Daryl insisted, gently pulling her away from Ed's body. "C'mon. We gotta get the hell outta here before we got more of these things comin' down on us. We need more ammo. We gotta go." Carol nodded then, straightening up and casting one last look at what used to be her ex. As much of a dick he'd turned out to be, she wouldn't have wished that ending on anyone.

She hoisted her soaking bag onto her shoulder with Ed's dry one, and she hurried after Daryl, praying his brother hadn't met the same fate as Ed Peletier. She could see that he was worried, that he was thinking the same thing. He was tense. His eyes were wild. He kept looking back, looking down, looking for any sign of Merle or the bag full of guns. But there was no trace. He was gone. But by the time they reached the top of the quarry, he was a man on a mission. It was an 'us or them' situation. If they wanted to get out alive, they had to stop looking back and focus on what was right in front of them.

"He could still be ok," Carol offered, as they walked quickly in the direction of the nearest road.

"Might be," he agreed. "But he's gone. We gotta take care of ourselves." He said nothing else as they cleared the wooded area and stepped foot on solid road. They looked around, looking for any sign of life or any passing car, but silence filled the air. They took off toward the city, terrified and uncertain of what they were about to discover.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Get in," he panted, tossing their bags into the back of the truck they'd found parked along the highway. The keys were still in the ignition, and Daryl figured it was a modern miracle that it hadn't been stolen by now.

Carol slid into the front seat of the old pickup, and Daryl turned the key, taking a deep breath and feeling a wave of relief hit him when he saw the truck had nearly almost a full tank of gas. The only thing he could think was that the truck's owner had been trying to escape the city on the bag roads when someone or something stopped him. He could see several patches of blood on the road as well as tracks in the grass that led him to believe he'd hit a roadblock of those things, and they'd chased him off into the woods.

They'd made it to the outskirts of Atlanta where a vast majority of homes along the highways had been burnt out and looted. Helicopters were still patrolling the skies, but there were fewer now. Explosions still sounded in the distance, but there were no armies in the streets, there were no police officers cruising through the city with bullhorns ordering people to evacuate.

The first home they'd come to that hadn't been burnt out had been a goldmine of canned food and water bottles, and they'd stuffed those into their bags before grabbing a duffel bag from one of the closets and loading it up with more. They'd found a body in the back bedroom, blood and brain matter spattered on the walls. A loaded shotgun lay unnaturally across the body. Daryl had grabbed it and searched the house for more ammo, which he'd found in one of the kitchen drawers.

Carol had been the one to find the note, spattered with blood and lying on the bedroom floor.

It said, simply:

 _Wife died last night. She came back. I got bit. She's in the back yard. I'm sorry. God, help me, I'm sorry._

Carol had peeked out the back window to see the lifeless form of a woman sprawled in the grass, shot between the eyes with what was probably the very same gun the man had killed himself with.

"This doesn't feel real," Carol murmured, as the truck bounced along the empty road. "It's like something out of a movie." She leaned her head back against the head rest on the seat. "People dying and coming back to life and attacking other people? What causes that? It's impossible."

"It ain't anymore. We saw it. You saw." He glanced at her. "We get in the middle of another herd of those things, you stay close." She nodded.

"We kill them," she murmured. "Right?" Daryl's hands gripped the steering wheel a little harder.

"We got to. It's us or them. They ain't people. Not anymore. You saw Ed. You looked in his eyes. They come back, they ain't what they were. Walkers."

"Walkers," Carol murmured. Daryl looked at her.

"They ain't us," he repeated.

"They're not," she agreed. Daryl made a sharp turn onto what was once a busy street. Roadblocks were set up along the side streets, a way of herding traffic toward a particular location. Signs were posted.

 _Emergency Shelter at Kinley High School. Inspection mandatory at door._

"What the hell happened? We were gone a couple of days, and then…" She shook her head. "It's like everybody disappeared."

As they approached the high school, they saw more of those things, those walkers. Dead, expressionless eyes stared at them from broken windows. Corpses walked across the grass, moving toward the truck, feet shuffling, open, bloody wounds seeping puss and chunks of flesh. A screaming woman came out from one of the exit doors, and Carol gasped as two walkers descended on her. She fell to the ground in her struggle, and the louder she screamed, the more walkers came at her, falling over her, pulling at her, devouring her.

"Oh God," Carol bit out. "This isn't happening. This isn't…" Daryl jumped as someone smacked into the side of the truck, hands sliding against the glass, fingernails breaking and leaving trails of blood as another dead one tried to get at him.

"Christ," he bit out, reaching for one of his arrows, rolling the window down far enough to shove the arrow into his attacker's head. It kept biting and snarling until he pushed a little further, hitting the brain with a resounding squelch. He tried to pull the bolt out, but it broke as the body fell to the ground. "Shit."

"Daryl." Carol pointed up the road, where a small herd was coming their way.

"Yeah, I see 'em. Hang on." He slammed the truck into reverse and quickly turned around, knocking over a stop sign in the process. Carol flinched, but in moments, they were peeling out and heading back down toward the highway. They drove in silence for a moment, before Daryl banged his hand on the dashboard. Carol jumped. "Sorry. Shit. Was just thinkin'…"

"About what?"

"Merle had a buddy he used to go fishin' with. Had a cabin up on Lake Burton."

"Lake Burton?" Carol asked. "Isn't that like a hundred miles away?"

"Little over," Daryl said with a nod. "Merle used to go up there two, three times a year. I went once. Mostly, I think they used it to party. But if Merle got outta the quarry, found himself a car, he might've gone up there. It's remote. Ain't much around but water and trees. It's hidden, and if somebody wanted to hide out for a while, that'd be the place to do it."

"You think he might have gone?"

"It's worth a shot," Daryl offered. "Thought I'd swing back down near the quarry, make a wide circle 'round the area."

"Daryl, do you really think that'd be the first place he'd go?" Carol asked. "Especially with you out there? He might be out there looking for _you_."

"My brother? Hell, he takes care of himself first. He ain't gonna go riskin' his ass out in them woods. He ain't the best tracker. A deer, sure. He can track one for miles. He can take care of himself, but he's gonna see dozens of footprints out there and ain't gonna know what way to go. He's gonna stick to the roads. He's gonna go someplace he knows, and that sure as hell ain't gonna be back home." Carol looked out ahead, eyes widening as something darted out in front of the road.

"Look out!" she screamed, as Daryl hit the brakes. The tires squealed as Daryl brought the truck to a lurching halt. The bumper barely clipped the back tire of the motorcycle, sending the rider rolling to the ground with a grunt.

"Jesus Christ," Daryl panted, grabbing for the gun he'd given Carol. "Stay here." He got out of the truck, slamming the door and moving to the side of the truck with his gun aimed but pointed down. He didn't want to scare the shit out of this guy, but he sure as hell wasn't going to take any chances with his own safety or Carol's. "Hey. You alright?" He heard a groan, and then he peered over to see the rider pulling himself up on all fours. He hadn't been going that fast when he hit him, but he knew the guy was probably pretty bruised upl.

"Christ, ain't nobody taught you how to drive before?" the voice asked gruffly. The man got up, brushing off the torn knees of his jeans before standing upright, clutching his shoulder with his free hand. He turned then, and Daryl's eyes grew wide.

"Merle?" Merle let out something between a laugh and a sigh of relief, before he fell forward, gripping the hood of the car. Carol got out quickly, rushing to Merle's side, as his hand smeared blood across the hood.

"Merle? Oh my God," Carol murmured.

"Ain't polite to kick a man when he's down. Christ, you coulda killed me, boy," Merle grunted.

"You ok? Merle, you're bleedin'," Daryl bit out, moving to his brother's side, as Carol gently examined the wound.

"I think the bullet went straight through, but that's gonna get infected," Carol whispered behind Merle's back.

"I can hear ya, sweetheart. And I'm a big boy. Ain't gotta whisper on my account. 'Course, my ears are ringin', no thanks to my baby brother. Hell, I thought I taught you to drive better'n that."

"You taught me, but you were drunk half the damn time," Daryl snorted, helping Merle around to the back of the truck. "You bit?"

"Bit. No. But I lost the goddamned rifles. Ed took off with 'em, and they got him. I grabbed the guns after, tried to get out, but they were everywhere. Lost the bag in the quarry, and I just ran. They followed me, and I passed out for damn near twelve hours in some kid's tree house. I woke up, and they were gone. Found that rust bucket in a garage. And then you hit me." Merle spat onto the ground. "You know how long it took me to get that bastard started? You coulda gave me ten more minutes with it."

"Yeah, well, if we don't get off this road soon, we're gonna have another herd on our asses." Merle hauled himself up in the back of the truck, groaning as he clutched his shoulder.

"Anything broken?" Carol asked.

"Just my pride, sweetheart, but a shot of whiskey or two would sure help that a little." He winked at her. "You wouldn't happen to have a bottle on ya, would ya, honey?"

"As a matter of fact," Carol offered, reaching into her pack and pulling out the half-empty bottle she and Daryl had drunk from the night before. Daryl shook his head, and Carol shrugged. "It'll do for the pain until we can get find some meds to get in him." She handed Merle the bottle and he brushed his fingers along her wrist, giving her a grin as she wrenched her hand away. She narrowed her eyes at him and he raised an eyebrow. "Don't even think about it."

"Oh, she's a firecracker," Merle chuckled, as Daryl bit back the urge to punch his brother in the nose. Merle popped open the bottle and began to drink, while Carol and Daryl slipped into the front of the truck.

"Well," she murmured, looking at him with wide eyes, chest heaving as she forced her breathing to slow after the shock of finding and accidentally hitting Merle. "What now?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Carol sat in the truck while Daryl inspected the house they'd picked out for the night. The sun was setting, and a chill was in the air, and Merle needed his wound cleaned and bandaged. So, they'd found a small house out in a secluded area, and Daryl had gone in to check it out, telling Carol to wait in the truck just in case.

But when she saw him step out onto the porch with his crossbow slung over his arm, she got out of the truck.

"Nobody's been here in days. They left dinner on the table. Got outta here in a hurry."

"You checked every room?" Carol asked.

"Yeah. We're safe here. Found some antibiotics in the medicine cabinet." He moved around to the back of the truck. "Merle. C'mon. We're here."

"Where's here?" Merle asked in his feverish half-sleep.

"Tonight, here's home," Daryl grunted, putting his arm around Merle, holding him around the middle as he helped him out of the truck. Carol moved to put her arm around Merle too, helping Daryl walk him up to the house and up the steps. Merle stumbled, and Daryl caught him, and by the time they got him in the house, they were worn out, too.

"I'll get some water. You get the meds," Carol offered. Daryl nodded, watching Carol dig out a bottle of water before he retrieved the medicine from the bathroom.

"Take this," Daryl insisted, bringing the bottle into the living room and unscrewing the cap. "It'll help." Merle swallowed the pill down with a gulp of water, and Carol put her hand against his forehead.

"He's burning up," she murmured. "We'll need to keep an eye on him until the fever breaks. Daryl, this could be…"

"It ain't," he muttered. "He wasn't bit. But that's lookin' bad." He nodded to the wound, and Carol nodded.

"I'll need some things from the bathroom. A first aid kit if you can find it."

"You a nurse?" Merle asked, groaning as Carol grabbed a pair of scissors off the table.

"No. A social worker. I was, anyway," she murmured. "Can you take your shirt off, or do I have to cut it off?"

"Careful, darlin'. A mouth like that's gonna get you in trouble." He said it with a grin, and Carol rolled her eyes. Merle attempted to lift his arms, but the pain in his injured shoulder was too much. He groaned in pain, as Daryl stepped back into the room with a box labeled "First Aid" with a piece of masking tape.

She began cutting away his shirt, and Daryl grabbed the old garment to throw away. Blood had dried down Merle's torso, so Carol went to work cleaning him up.

"Ain't had a woman give me a sponge bath in a while," Merle chuckled. "Damn, if you ain't got gentle hands."

"Merle, shut up," Daryl snapped.

"Oh, hell, brother, let a man appreciate a beautiful woman in peace," Merle grinned. Carol said nothing. "Sorry 'bout Ed. I know you two was close."

"Close isn't the word I'd use," Carol muttered. "He was a drunk and an asshole."

"Ooh, I see," Merle hummed, raising his eyebrows. "Well, you're right about that. I've spent enough time with Peletier to know he had himself a different piece of ass every time the wind blew. Come to think of it, one night last week, some pretty blonde was all over him in the dark corner of a smoky little bar."

"Shut the hell up," Daryl snapped again, moving to peer out of one of the front windows.

"You go back to the quarry?" Merle asked. Daryl nodded. "You see him?"

"We saw him," Carol muttered, pouring peroxide onto a piece of gauze and gently tending to the bullet wound. Merle flinched and groaned.

"They took him out," Merle remembered. "Took him down and over that cliff. Nobody could've survived that fall."

"He didn't. He was dead," Carol muttered, dabbing at the wound with some ointment. "A shot to the head. That put him down."

"You do it?" Merle asked. Carol met his gaze for a moment and gave a nod. "Damn, honey. You got some balls on you. Good for you."

"Nothing good about it." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"He deserved what he got, roughing you up like that," Merle shrugged. "Don't beat yourself up over it. Whether he got bit or drowned, he was dead anyway. You did the right thing finishing him off. I'm sure that's what he woulda wanted."

"You even know how to shut the hell up?" Daryl asked, moving back across the room. Merle smirked at his brother but said nothing.

"You'll live," Carol eventually said, bandaging up Merle's wound. She got up and headed for the kitchen where she washed her hands off in the sink, amazed the place still had running water. It was cold, but it was something.

"Gonna check the basement, see if there's anything down there we can use," Daryl murmured, stepping into the kitchen. "You ok?"

"Me? I'm fine."

"Sorry 'bout him. He's a jackass," Daryl muttered.

"I can handle him," Carol replied with a shrug.

"You had to do it, you know?" Daryl asked, stepping up behind her. She turned to him. "Putting Ed down. You had to."

"I know."

"Merle's right. Don't beat yourself up over it. If it was me, I'd want ya to do the same thing." Carol nodded then, and Daryl lingered at the basement door for a moment before opening it and heading down.

Carol rummaged through the cupboards, rummaging around for something to eat. She found a couple of cans of soup she could easily split between the three of them. Moments into her quest for a few bowls, the kitchen was bathed in light. She jumped in surprise as the hum of electricity filled the air, and the clock on the microwave began to flash 00:00. The ceiling fan above the dining room table turned on, and Carol quickly moved to turn it off, as Daryl came back up the steps carrying a duffel bag, a shot gun and a box of ammo.

"They got a generator," he said with a nod. "Best keep the lights low tonight. Haven't heard any choppers for a while, but they could be close."

"Maybe we should try making a distress signal. I don't know, light a fire or something," Carol suggested.

"They'd see it. Whoever they are, they were shooting at us. They saw us. Saw we weren't one of them things, and they shot at us anyway." Carol nodded then, sighing softly as she dumped the soup into three bowls and began heating them in the microwave. "We'll lay low tonight. Got about enough power in that generator to last us 'til mornin', but we're too close to town. There's gonna be herds of them things. Best if we stick to the back roads, out in the country where there ain't so many houses."

"They managed to come up to the quarry," Carol countered. "They're gonna be everywhere. If this thing happens that fast, if just a bite can do that to a person, then they'll be everywhere. Daryl, we need to find a place they can't get through. Someplace with strong walls, like a school or a hospital or something."

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "Wanna get Merle back on his feet. We'll find a place. Just gotta lay low for a little while. Assholes that shot Merle don't seem like the ask questions first, shoot later type." He looked out the window. "There's another house about a mile down the road. I figure we can check that out in the morning."

"Did you still want to make that drive up to that lake?"

"Don't know. I'm guessing if this thing's big enough to wipe out Atlanta, it's probably everywhere else, too. We'll figure it out."

"Ok," Carol murmured, pulling the hot soup from the microwave. "Come on. Let's eat. After that, I don't know about you, but I could use a long, hot shower."

...

Merle had been knocked out cold for the past hour after downing a couple of painkillers. Daryl had set about securing all of the doors and windows in the place, while Carol retreated to the bathroom to shower.

She hissed softly at the ache in her hand as she unwrapped the bandage. She'd been able to function with the wound she'd gotten on her hand from falling in the dark woods, but now, as she let the air hit it, she could feel her pulse throbbing there.

The water was almost hot by the time she stepped under the stream. She sighed at the feeling of warm water washing over her skin, and she squeezed a dollop of shampoo into her hand and worked it through her short hair. She winced as an ache throbbed in her wrist from where Ed had grabbed her. She'd almost forgotten about that in all of the chaos. She gently rubbed the sore spot until the ache was manageable, and she bent her head forward, letting the warm water roll down her back.

She babied her hand, making sure to clean it with soap and water, but it still hurt like hell.

She closed her eyes, gasping softly at the memory of Ed's reanimated body reaching out for her. She could still feel the force of the bullet leaving the gun as she fired it into Ed's skull.

The world had crashed down around them in the course of a couple of days, and the memory of Ed turning into a raging asshole over what he construed as flirting between her and Daryl and even her and Merle seemed like a lifetime ago.

But this reminder, this bruise, this twinge of pain in her wrist was a reminder that she had survived whatever the hell had happened to the world out there, and Ed was gone.

She shook her head, rubbing the soap over her body, getting off the sweat and dirt and grit, scrubbing harder as if trying to erase the memory of Ed's body against hers, of him inside of her, of the foul things he'd said to her. She'd grown up feeling sorry for women who were with men like that. She'd grown up to be a person that could help women and children get away from men like that. She'd grown up never once thinking she'd become one of those women herself. She didn't feel good about Ed's death. She didn't feel bad about it either. All she knew was that she'd had the fortune of nature correcting the huge mistake she'd made by agreeing to date him.

Still, the thought of putting a bullet through his head, ending what he had become, it made her stomach lurch.

She didn't love him. She never had. He'd been fun in the beginning, but fun wasn't everything.

She quickly cut the water off, and she sunk down to the bottom of the shower, pulling her knees up to her chest, feeling the hot tears burning behind her eyelids. She choked back a sob, and she fought like hell to keep down what little food she had in her stomach. She wasn't crying for him. She wasn't quite sure what she was crying for. But she knew she wasn't the same woman she was a couple of days ago. Whatever the world was changing into, she could feel herself changing right along with it.

She leaned back a little too roughly, smacking her head against the wall, causing the soap to clatter to the bottom of the tub. Moments later, she heard a tap at the door, followed by a gruff voice that made her gasp softly to herself.

"You ok in there?"

"Uh, yeah!" she called out. "Just finishing up." She wiped at her eyes and her nose before pulling herself up and wrapping a towel around her body. She wiped her hand across the foggy glass of the mirror, looking into it to see her eyes red from crying. She shook her head and quickly splashed some cold water on her face.

She dried off and dressed before stepping into the hallway. Daryl was rummaging around one of the bedrooms when she stepped inside.

"What're you doing?" she asked softly, leaning against the door frame. He turned, gaze immediately focusing on the way her short hair stuck up in every which direction, dripping with water. He could see the faint outline of her nipples poking at the fabric of her shirt. The pants she wore clung to her body in all the right ways, and as guilty as he felt about thinking about her in this way after everything she'd been through, he couldn't help himself.

He cleared his throat and looked away.

"Thought you might wanna sleep in here. Found some blankets. The bed's pretty comfortable." He glanced over at it.

"We should put Merle in here. It's more comfortable than the couch."

"You kidding? Merle's out for the count, and he's used to sleepin' in worse places than that. He's been in worse shape, if you can believe it." Carol felt a little smile tug at her lips.

"You can have this room."

"Nah, I'll take the one next door. It's smaller. I don't need much." He noticed her un-bandaged hand. "That gonna be ok?"

"Yeah. It's fine," she promised.

"Here. Lemme see." He narrowed his eyes when she held her hand up, and he nodded.

"Let me put somethin' on it."

"It wouldn't hurt it to let it breathe for the night."

"Better safe than sorry," he murmured. "Be right back." Carol turned, moving toward the bed, and she plopped down, peering over at the candle Daryl had lit on the bedside table. It was smart, not keeping the lights on. The less possibility of attracting attention to themselves, the better. The warm glow of the candle was comforting, anyway.

When Daryl returned to the room, he had another candle in one hand. He placed it down next to the other one to give him more light.

"A'right," he muttered. "I'll try not to hurt ya."

"I trust you," she said with a little smile, catching his gaze and watching the tops of his ears turn red.

Daryl got to work gently cleaning and tending to Carol's cut before wrapping it in a clean piece of bandage. When he tied the ends together, he watched her wince.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"It's ok. It's not your fault." She gave him a little smile. "Thank you."

"Ain't nothin'," he murmured. "Thanks though. For tendin' to Merle like you did. I know he's a dick." Carol chuckled at that, and Daryl let go of her hand. "All done."

"Thank you." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. When she pulled back, she saw his lips twitch, and she gave him a little smile. "Thank you for reminding me that not all guys are Eds. At least, before." She sighed. "Who knows what's left out there. Or who's left. I'm just glad you're here." Daryl cleared his throat then, bobbing his head in an awkward nod. "I saved you some warm water."

"Right," Daryl said blankly, standing up and starting across the room. "You'll be ok in here?"

"It's quiet. I like that." Daryl turned, heading back toward the door. "Oh, do you want your other cand—" Daryl smacked right into the door frame.

"Shit," he bit out, rubbing his nose as Carol got up with the second candle and hurried over to him.

"Are you ok? Are you bleeding?"

"M'ok," he muttered, despite the injury to his pride. "I'll live." He took the candle from her, and she leaned back against the frame, cocking her head to the side as she looked up at him, the flame of the candle flickering between them. "What?"

"Hmm," she hummed. "Nothing. You just have really nice eyes." Daryl nearly choked on his tongue when she reached up to brush the hair out of his eyes. "Good night, Daryl."

"Night," he murmured numbly, standing there staring until he felt the hot wax drip onto his hand. He flinched, and she looked down before meeting his gaze again. Christ, he'd never seen anything more beautiful than her deep blue, soulful eyes. "You need anything, I'm just next door."

"Ok," she offered softly. "Thank you." She shut the door then, sighing tiredly and retreating to the bed. She lay down, and it wasn't long before exhaustion swept her under and she fell into a much needed dreamless sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

She woke sometime late in the night, and the candles were burned down so low the light was dim and it was hard to see. She sat up, listening to the sounds around her. She could hear the crickets outside, and she could hear the quiet footsteps creeping past her door and out into the house. She shivered a little, pulling her blanket tight around her shoulders. Her stomach was growling, and she knew getting back to sleep was going to be next to impossible.

She crept out of the room and padded down the hall, hearing a soft snore coming from where Merle slept on the couch. She could smell the faint hint of cigarette smoke, and the front door was propped open just a few inches. She bit her lip, slipping across the room, making certain she didn't wake Merle, and she pushed the door open, watching Daryl jump in surprise when she stepped out on the porch.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. It's just me." She gave him a little smile.

"Can't sleep?"

"No," she murmured. "You?"

"Nah."

"Worried about your brother?"

"A little. Mostly tryin' to figure out what the hell's goin' on and what we're gonna do about it." He took a pull off of his cigarette. Carol sat down on the porch step next to him, and she peered out into the darkness. It was almost too still. The silence had been welcomed before everything changed. Now it was unsettling. "You ok?"

"Yeah," she murmured. "No. I don't know." She shrugged.

"Yeah. Know what you mean." Her hands shook as she sat there, and Daryl noticed.

"You ain't gotta be strong. He was an asshole, but he was still your boyfriend."

"We had some good times, you know?" she asked. "He was sweet in the beginning." Her lower lip trembled. "It was right there. Under the surface the whole time. Maybe he could have gotten help."

"Maybe. Don't matter too much now, does it? He hurt ya. He might've done worse." Carol nodded then, and she sniffled.

"Yeah. You're right. In my work, I've seen things you wouldn't believe. People we pass on the streets. They might be the kind that hold doors open for you or smile when you look them in the eye. But they go home, and everything falls away, and all that's left is a monster."

"Sounds like my old man," Daryl muttered. "He wasn't always bad. Sometimes, we had fun. He taught me and Merle to hunt and track and fish. We had good times. Then he'd go to drinkin', and he'd get angry. He'd hate the world. He'd take it out on anybody who was close. Mostly, it was me, 'cause Merle was older, and he got the hell out as much as he could. Hell, even when he was sober, if we fucked up, we paid for it. He kept me outta school a whole week one time on account of the bruises."

"I'm sorry, Daryl," Carol said softly, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"It's good, what you do. What you did. Some kids out there got it a whole hell of a lot worse than I did." He took another drag on his cigarette before flicking it down onto the step. He dragged the toe of his boot across it. "It's just been Merle and me since he died."

"My aunt passed a couple years ago. I've been on my own. There's been Ed. In retrospect, I think he liked that I didn't really have anybody. I made decent money, I didn't have a lot of baggage. We had some fun. This was supposed to be fun." She shook her head. "What's going on out there?"

"Don't know," he murmured. "But m'glad you're here." She watched his fingers twitch anxiously as he reached for another cigarette. "You're good with Merle. He's an asshole, but he's still my brother."

"Yeah," Carol chuckled. "He doesn't bother me. He wears it proudly. Ed kept it hidden until he was drinking." She wiped her hands on the sides of her pants and took a shaky breath. "Maybe we should go to that cabin you were talking about. Maybe if we make it up there, we'll find people? Maybe all of this is just here. It could be better someplace else."

"Yeah. Maybe," Daryl murmured. "We'll talk about it tomorrow." He looked over his shoulder. "You should sleep."

"So should you."

"M'good out here," Daryl murmured. "I'll turn in in a while."

"You mind if I keep you company?" she asked. "It's too quiet in there." Daryl nodded then, taking another pull on his cigarette.


End file.
